


Folks of all kind

by genderminecrafted



Category: Hermitcraft RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Music, Folk Music, Friendship, Gen, Internalised ableism, Loneliness, Mild Hurt/Comfort, but it should be a good time for others as well, the & in the tags represents platonic relationships, this is ver self indulgent
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:15:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25408261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/genderminecrafted/pseuds/genderminecrafted
Summary: Thursday Evenings at sundownMusic and dancing at Welsknights House!Professionals allowed, amateurs encouragedALL FOLKS WELCOMEJoe and Wels slowly add hermits to their ever growing folk music evenings.
Relationships: Joe Hills & VintageBeef & Welsknight Gaming, Joe Hills & Welsknight Gaming, RenDog & Iskall85, ZombieCleo & Joehills, ZombieCleo & Stressmonster
Comments: 31
Kudos: 78





	1. In which Wels misses some things

**Author's Note:**

> Evening all and welcome to my very first fic.  
> The song Joe and Wels play is Sailors Bonnet by The gloaming (i highly reccommed listening whilst reading or before reading, it will be much more effective)
> 
> [Youtube](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JOAaJoZyg1I)  
> [Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/track/10wxgrRKJiSi3kOftPm7Q1?si=mvghRw9lQ1q1dpwnR7aEXg)  
> [Bandcamp](https://thegloaming.bandcamp.com/track/the-sailors-bonnet)

Honestly, Wels can’t remember when he first picked up an instrument; playing was just something he’d always done. He grew up steeped in music, it dripped from every memory he had; his father humming melodies, his friends clapping dancing songs in the square, his mother singing lullabies. Music was just a fact of life for Wels.

He ran his fingertip over the frets of his guitar and hummed to himself. 

He never really had a knack for singing himself. Sure, he could carry a tune, but it never felt like he had control over his voice; it felt foreign in his throat and seemed to stick to his tongue. No, Wels much preferred instruments. Instruments, unlike vocal chords, were built _for_ music. Every fragile bone in their body was designed to let him play, each fibre or their being was there to help him weave his magic. Sometimes, he wondered if he was the same, if he was there, to perform, to make magic, to make music.

He thought about this as Joe talked to him about the latest song he’d learnt. He relished in the familiar scratch of metal strings as he watched Joe frantically wave his hands. He tried to force his brain to focus on the words coming out of Joe’s mouth but he couldn’t quite discern their meaning. It’s alright, he knew Joe wouldn’t mind, and his enthusiasm was infectious regardless of what he was saying.

He coughed quietly as Joe’s ramble came to its conclusion.

‘So, what are the chords?’ he asked, grinning as Joe startled slightly

‘Well, it actually doesn’t have much in terms of chords. They don’t really have a main role in the song until the second half. Before then, they’re more like islands for the fiddle to land on rather than _being_ the river itself as they usually woul- ’ 

Wels laughed as Joe began to pick up steam again

‘What’s the best way for me to play then?’ 

‘Uh, I think It’s in D major, so for the first half you can just add chords where they feel right, and then as it picks up steam you can alternate between A and G, and just see where the mood so takes you from there’

Wels nodded and watched as Joe pulled his fiddle up to his shoulder and caught his eye

‘You ready?’ 

‘Ready.’

and Joe drew out the first solitary note of the song. 

He held it aloft, letting it sit slightly too long, before leaning down into the rest of the phrase. Wels plucked out a tentative chord where he thought the passage might end, trying to read Joes posture as he dipped into the last note. Joe glanced over, smiling encouragingly when he noticed Wels’ hesitance. Wels smiled back.

Joe began the second phrase, letting the melody fill the room and encompass the 2 of them, Wels plucked another chord, more confident in its placement this time, settling into the music a little more. Joe’s smile widened as he shifted his fingers upwards letting the notes soar a little higher this time. Wels mirrored him quickly, anchoring the tune without weighing it down and Joe’s notes faded slightly letting the hair on the bow make itself known. The sound washed over Wels as he listened to Joe play, he could almost hear the wood of the fiddle reverberating around his head. 

God, he’d missed this. 

Somewhere along the line, Wels forgot he was playing, and just let the music pour out of him, swimming in the heady feeling of performing. His fingers stung slightly as they caught the metal of the strings and he could tell he was out of practice, but the feeling was as comforting as it was painful.

Suddenly Joe stepped forward a touch, his breath catching slightly looking for Wels’ eyes and he knew they were entering the second half. He began to strum a steadier rhythm as Joe lightly rocked to the previously unheard beat. Wels felt himself start to tap his foot as the tempo picked up, letting himself decorate Joe’s melody with well-placed flourishes and licks. Joe's notes soared through the air, expanding into the space and Wels couldn’t help but laugh lightly. God, he’d _really_ missed this. 

The song grew and grew filling his lungs and heart, he added percussive hits and strikes relishing in the ways he could make his instrument sing. Harmonics glanced off his fingers as Joe spun the tune upwards and upwards, gliding into new passages as though there was nothing else he lived to do, bending and leaning into the sound as it unwrapped and whirled through the sky. Wels laughed properly now, watching as Joe began half dancing to the tune they weaved. The song had reached its pinnacle now, Joe jumping octaves with delight and ease. Then as suddenly as it started it, Joe let the melody fall and sink into its final phrase, letting the wood sound once again as the song came back down to earth.

Wels was still laughing, fingers fuzzy with the high that came from playing and eyes dancing with life. Joe was beaming excitement sparking across his face

‘So I take it you liked it then?’

‘Yes Joe, I liked it’ Wels said between laughs ‘I really liked it,’ he looked down at his hands, laughter fading slightly ‘I missed playing with you’

‘I missed you too Wels, we all did… the server’s been quiet without you’

‘Yeah, it was quiet without you as well, I can’t say I’ll take music for granted again’ Wels paused a second ‘Wait, what do you mean it was quiet without me?’

Joe tilted his head questioningly ‘Well, you’re the only one I play with regularly’ 

‘Out of all the hermits we’re the only ones who play?’

‘Well I wouldn’t say that, in terms of probability its likely there are other people who play, but I don’t want to force my company upon them uninvited’

‘There have to be others who would _willing_ play with us’

‘Well I’m sure there are, but I really don’t want to pressure anyone into performing, it’s easy to forget how nerve-wracking it can to play in front of others when you’re not used to it’ Joe said mildly ‘but maybe we could see if people are interested in sitting in, even if they don’t play first time round’

Wels hummed as he started quietly plucking at his guitar again 

‘Yeah that would be nice, music’s best made shared after-all’ He looked over to the corner of the room where joe had piled music related equipment haphazardly on top of Wels’ accordion ‘Wanna hear the bourrée I’ve been working on?’

Joe bounced his leg excitedly 

‘Wels, I am confident you know me well enough by now that I’m sure you can guess my answer is yes’

Wels grinned broadly as he made his way through Joe's things, explaining the basic structure of the song and pulling out bits of scrambled together sheet music.

He’d really, really missed this.


	2. In which Beef discovers his Beefy Tunes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song referrenced:  
> The first half of Hellebore/Too Late to Sleep (up-till about the 2 min mark) adapted for fiddle accordion and cajon
> 
> [Youtube](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oXUj4okEAZg)  
> [Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/track/1ytgivUas6YJU6UnXOPMov?si=5OMXOPDTSHqDT0TK1-k1jg)  
> [Website](http://naragonia.com/music/idili/track/hellebore-too-late-to-sleep/)  
> [Place to purchase album](http://naragonia.com/en/shop-2/)

Beef glanced at the sun as it made its steady trek towards the horizon, it was definitely evening at this point so Joe should be well on his way to Wels’. He pressed his finger nails lightly into his palm and took a deep breath. He had nothing to be worried about, it was  _ Joe _ , it's not like he’s going to be cast out for daring to ask to listen to them play, in fact he sure Joe would be delighted to hear him interested!

He pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth, thumb drumming unnoticeably on his thigh.

I mean, even if Joe says no, it's not the end of the world. It's not like anything was on the line if the conversation didn’t go as planned. He could just go back to listening from his hacienda like he did before, it would be more productive anyway because he could sort through his storage system while he listened… maybe he should just head home, he didn’t want Joe to have to go through the ordeal of asking Wels and then having to decide right then and there whether he could stay or not.

He blinked and unclenched his jaw deliberately.

No, come on, it's Joe, he’ll be thrilled, it's going to be fine, it's going to be great!

He stood there a little longer, leaning against the trees Wels had added to his front garden, waiting to see the familiar blue of Joe breach horizon. A few minutes past and Beef began counting his heart beat, silently placing rhythms on top of it with this thumb.

Then, out of nowhere he heard a flurry of leaves and sticks and a quiet ‘dangit’ from the distance. That’ll be Joe then.

Beef steeled himself and started carefully making his way towards the noise, picking his way through roots, in an attempt to prevent what happened to Joe happening to him.

‘Hey Joe! You alright there? Need any help?’

‘Oh! Howdy Beef! I’m alright I’m alright, managed to save all the important stuff.’ He said nodding at the fiddle strapped to his back. He grasped Beef’s hand appreciatively and hauled himself upright. ‘I didn’t expect to see you around here this time of night, though I guess you do live near-by, so it’s not exactly out of the blue.’

Beef quickly checked over Joe’s form (a habit he’d picked up from living with NHO, too damn stubborn the lot of them) and began rubbing the back of his neck once he deemed him okay.

‘Yeah, its, uh, not at all out of the blue actually.’ he chuckled before looking back over to Wels’ house ‘I’ve been hearing you and Wels play the past few weeks and I was, well, I was wondering if I could maybe sit in and hear you both properly?’ He looked back to Joe with a half-smile ‘If it’s no bother of course’

Seeing the expression of surprise and excitement Joe wore made Beef wondered why he’d even been nervous in the first place, it’s _Joe_.

‘Yeah of course we’d love to have you! We’ve actually been wondering whether we should invite some hermits ourselves! But we weren’t sure if there’d be any interest and we didn’t want people showing up out of a sense of obligation, of course.’ He dusted his hands on his jeans and adjusted the strap on his fiddle ‘Come on, walk with me, Wels is going to be so happy he’s been asking me for weeks!’

Beef smiled, shook his hands out lightly and began retracing his steps up to Wels’ porch.

‘Wels will be so excited to see you, just you watch.’ Joe rapped his knuckles on the door in a practiced pattern. ‘Wels! I’m here and I’ve brought a friend!’ The door opened quickly and Beef was greeted with the image of a smiling Wels with a heavy looking accordion round his neck.

‘Joe, good to see you I was just getting worried about where you were,’ he said through fond chuckles ‘I thought you might have needed some assistance again’. Joe huffed good naturedly as Wels turned to face Beef, who gave a small wave upon being noticed ‘And howdy to you too neighbour, good to see you! What brings you to my humble abode?’

Beef flicked his gaze to Joe, who smiled warmly, before returning to meet Wels’ eye.

‘Well, you see I’ve been hearing you play for a few weeks now and I sort of wondered if you’d be okay with me sitting in to hear you for real – if it's not an intrusion that is.’ he said as Joe gave him an encouraging nod.

‘Oh of course! It would be our pleasure.’ Wels stepped out of the way of the door frame making room for his guests ‘Although, don’t expect anything too amazing’ he threw Joe a nod ‘I’m just teaching him a more French style playing, so we’re by no means at a professional level yet.’

Joe worked his way quickly to the corner of the entertaining room of Wels’ house, and began his routine of gracefully dumping his belongings in a small heap. Beef watched with intrigue as Joe pulled out his instrument and began carefully inspecting the bow, looking for something Beef couldn’t discern. After a moment Joe nodded to himself and pulled the fiddle up to his chin, adjusting the chinrest slightly, rolling his shoulder back. Beef supposed it might have been knocked out of position in the fall or something.

‘Here, take a seat on that chair over there’ Said Wels, pulling Beef from his thoughts ‘I’ll sit here’ he said gesturing to a small wooden box in the corner of the room.

‘Oh, no. No, I can’t let _you_ sit on the box when _I’m_ the one who barged into your house begging you to play for me. I’ll sit there’ said Beef firmly but with humour lacing his tone. Wels rolled his eyes smiling and relented

‘I disagree, but I know when I’m beat. No point arguing on this one’

‘Nope, I won’t budge!’ quipped Beef through a smile and he strode victoriously to the hollow box with a hole in one of the sides. It shook oddly as he sat on it, but he paid it no mind, focusing his attention back on Joe who was humming and plucking the strings in sequence, concentrating on adjusting the tuning pegs minutely.

Wels settled down into the chair, sitting forward and placing the accordion on his lap.

‘So what songs do we want to play to start with’

‘Well, if you’re playing accordion, you may as well take centre stage and we can trade off melody lines. So, maybe the latest one we’ve been working on?’ Joe half mumbled between plucks. He picked up his bow with a flourish and ran it over the strings 2 at a time before playing a fragment of a jig he clearly knew well. Wels copied the tune confidently pulling a smooth song from the box in his lap.

Beef felt his excitement pick up as the 2 briefly sounded together.

‘Okay sounds good, want to start us off with the fiddle then?’

Joe nodded, positioning his bow and waiting for Wels to look ready. At Wels’ imperceptible eyebrow raise, he let the first low note drag out into the silence.

Beef shuddered slightly as Wels filled out the sound, joining with Joe’s seemingly random start, flicking his fingers over the box in his lap letting a high tune flow out of the instrument. He changed chords and Joe added another string to his bowing, letting the G string drone on underneath while the harmony shifted around it. Wels looked over at Beef, smiling and the enraptured expression on his face, before moving chords again and leaning forward purposefully, waiting for Joe to respond. Joe let his notes fade just a touch before breathing in, mirroring the slight tension in Wels' posture. They made eye contact.

And suddenly they were off, Beef was pulled dizzyingly into the tune before he could even think about what had just transpired. Joe’s bowing became rhythmic and purposeful as Wels drove onwards through the melody pushing accents on notes and pulling in a quick swell of sound. Beef could not contain his breath as he started tapping along to the song.

Joe’s insistent, controlled, almost strikes, of his bow seemed to somehow work as both the rhythm and bass without being truly either, and Beef found himself letting his feet copy the steady pulse as his hands accented the lob-sided swing of Wels’ melody. Beef closed his eyes a a second as his heart seemed to hammer in time to song, his body leaning into certain notes for reasons he didn’t understand, but he just knew they had that quality on purpose. He opened his eyes grinning as he saw Wels and Joe talk without words, watching each other for things Beef could not see.

His hands started tapping more, throwing out ideas into the room with delightful imprecision as he felt compelled to join in the conversation, letting go of his previous caution. He felt something bubble in his throat as Joe seemingly responded to him, letting the harmony flit a little higher. Wels pushed the energy further filling the song with more and more layers and Beef found his tapping pulling different sections of the music out. His ideas became more complex as the sound felt more and more comfortable.

Suddenly, without warning something changed the song took a new shape whilst maintaining its old form. Beef leaned forward letting his head fall down slightly turning his attention away from the musicians and into the sound. The drumming became another part of the song, shifting and flowing with the rest, bouncing ideas between the three of them as Wels pulled and stretched the texture on a whim, letting the energy push higher and higher. The fiddle and the accordion blended imperceptibly and Beef opened his eyes to see Wels and Joe looking at him with uncontained joy, Wels’ eyes sharp and knowing and Joes brimming with ideas.

As Wels skipped and changed more and more of the established notes, and as Joe let go of the rhythm letting Beef fill the gaps, the song started to feel like it was in its final stages. Beef let his tapping become more simplistic, emphasising the steady pulse as Joe and Wels danced further and further. Wels let the middle line drop out leaving only the fiddle dueting the melody and gentle bass of the accordion, Beefs simplified his tapping more still, letting only the most important beats remain, until the final phrase concluded and Joe let the beginning drone return to finish the song.

They all breathed for a second, heart racing and minds buzzing with ineffable sensations. Beef coughed out a laugh and broke the brittle silence, cheeks hurting from smiling but unable to stop.

‘Well, if that was ‘by no means professional’ I think professional would actually be the end of me.’

Wels shook his hair out releasing the tension from his neck and laughed at Beefs comment

‘You should hear Joe play some of the reels he knows, then you’ll see real talent’

‘Beef you never mentioned you were a drummer’ Joe cut across with gentle curiosity. Beef turned his head sharply, eyebrows pulling into a confused frown.

‘I’m not?’

‘You’re not?’ Surprise was evident in Wels’ tone. ‘Huh, I assumed you were from the way you were playing.’

‘Oh, well that can hardly be considered playing, that was just me tapping along’

‘Very good tapping along nonetheless. You really sounded like you knew the language, even if you weren’t fully fluent in its grammar.’ Joe let the fiddle fall from his shoulder, ‘You sure you’ve never played?’

‘Joe I think he would know if he played drums or not’

‘Maybe he learnt in a dream, Wels, we don’t know. You just can’t go around making assumptions about what has and hasn’t been learnt in which state of consciousness’ retorted Joe with an air of self-aware theatricality

Wels laughed again and Beef chuckled, unable to quite place the extent to which Joe was joking.

‘No, I’m pretty sure I didn’t learn to play drums in a dream either’

‘Well, do you want to?’

‘Do I... want to learn to play drums in a dream?’

‘No, do you want to learn to play drums?’ said Wels nodding to the box Beef was sitting on.

‘In this state of consciousness. Cleo tells me it’s the one most conducive to actual learning’ clarified Joe

Beef stared down at the box beneath him and then back up to Wels with a quizzical expression.

‘It’s called a cajon, it’s a type of drum originally from Peru, but it’s sort of been adopted all around as a proxy acoustic drum kit’

Beef jumped up at his words ‘You let me sit on an instrument?!’ he yelped

‘Well, to be fair, you did insist.’

Beef looked back down to the innocuous box, and reviewed how he had thrown his weight around on it, rocking and half bouncing off it, unaware that he could have broken one of Wels’ prized instruments.

‘Beef it’s meant to be sat on, don’t panic’ cut in Joe again, picking up on Beef’s growing worries ‘Here, sit back down on it and give it a go’

At Wels reassuring nod, he cautiously sunk down again, this time taking note of the slight metallic sound the box made as he transferred his weight.

‘Okay. Now spread your legs.’

‘Wels!’ gasped Beef in mock horror ‘Take me to dinner first.’ He placed a dramatic hand over his heart, mouth agape.

Wels rolled his eyes again through huff of laughter ‘You need access to the front panel so you can hit it in different places with different strokes so you can vary the tones’

Beef snickered but adjusted his position so that he could strike the front and sides of box. Joe caught his attention and made a show of rolling his shoulders and straightening his back. Beef corrected his posture so that he wasn’t hunched over, shifting his weight so he could still reach the front of the box without slouching

‘Good. Now hit the centre of the front face, about 6 inches down from the top. Relax your shoulders and wrists, and focus on making contact with the top half of your palm and your fingers.’ Wels demonstrated by clapping with said part of his hand.

Beef looked back down at the box, pausing slightly before hitting the upper middle section, letting his hand bounce away from the force of it. He startled mildly at the bass-y sound it made.

‘See you’re a natural! You just need to experiment with what tones can be made there, but given how you were using your feet and different parts of your legs and hands to get different sounds when we were playing before, you’ll have no problems.’ Wels said with a sparkle in his eyes.

Beef grinned and looked back down at the cajon. He really did want to play it more, it felt like a natural progression from his habit of drumming on surfaces. He quietly riffled triples with his fingers across the top of it, feeling its texture and enjoying the way the sound resonated through his body. Wels considered him with quiet understanding. He flitted his focus Joe, who tilted his head meaningfully at him, raising an eyebrow.

‘You can keep it, if you want’ remarked Wels casually, breaking the spell that had fallen across the three of them.

‘No,’ protested Beef ‘I couldn’t just take it from yo-‘

‘I don’t use it, I prefer to do more percussive stuff with my guitar, anyway’

‘Still, I couldn’t just take it for free’ Beef tapped the cajon lightly for emphasis. ‘you deserve something in return, how much do you want for it?’

Wels crossed his arms. ‘Beef, I’m not gonna take diamonds for it’

‘No, I really ins-‘

‘Tell you what,’ interrupted Joe judiciously ‘Why not, as payment, next time you join us you play with us properly’ He stepped back slightly allowing the others to focus on him easily ‘Seems like a fair enough deal to me, we get something, you get something, that’s how deals should work. And,’ he lowered his voice slightly forcing Beef to lean in a tad ‘it means you have to practise.’

Wels smiled broadly again.

‘I’m good with that. So what do you say?’ he challenged, stepping back offering a hand to Beef, mirroring what Beef had done to Joe before. Beef grasped it and Wels helped pull up him to standing, letting him steady himself before raising a questioning eyebrow. Beef shook his hand once and stepped forward to meet his gaze.

‘Yeah, I think I’ll take that deal’


	3. In which Iskall tries new things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all know the drill  
> Song title: Rodrigo y Gabriela - 'Tamacun'
> 
> [I use this very specific version of it on youtube ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l-qgum7hFXk)  
> but the [spotify](https://open.spotify.com/track/0avtLG17MT8kDf9xc67Niv?si=n3IfqBxJSCmiuvIJzx9Qfw)  
> should also cover it!  
> [Bandcamp (support the artists here)](https://rodrigoygabriela.bandcamp.com/track/tamacun-2)

Iskall was frustrated. He had been frustrated for a long time. He can’t remember the last time he wasn’t frustrated - all he knew was how frustrated he his was at his big dumb hands and his annoying, uncooperative fingers, that would not do what he told them to.

‘Ren this is stupid’

‘Dude, its not stupid, it just takes practise’

‘It’s stupid and I can’t do it.’

Ren sighed patiently, ‘Are you sure you want to learn to do this? You don’t have to, I’m okay playing alone’ he remarked, shoving Iskall’s shoulder lightly with his own, ‘just your company’s enough man’

‘No, I said I’m going to learn and I’m not going to let you down,’ Iskall paused and started at his fingers on the fret board of his guitar. He moved the neck away from his body like Ren had shown him, and tried to re-angle his hand so that he wasn’t twisting his wrist so much. ‘I’m not backing down just because my stupid hands won’t do what they’re told.’

‘Okay if you’re sure man.’ Ren, sat back slightly and repositioned his hands on the guitar, waiting for Iskall to refocus his attention towards him instead of shooting daggers at his own finger tips.

‘Okay, so for this passage you want to be focusing on your left hand, as most of the sound comes from controlling the pressure and bending the strings, rather than strumming, if you follow me.’ Ren lifted his strumming hand away from the body of the guitar altogether ‘In theory you should be able to play this whole section without using your right hand at all’

He then rested his free hand on top of the body of the guitar and executed a quick 7 note pattern with his left, using what Iskall presumed to be wizardry.

‘Dude, don’t look at me like that’ laughed out Ren, noticing the look of incredulous suspicion Iskall was giving him. ‘I promise it’s easier than it looks, if this old dog can pull it off, so can you.’

Iskall’s expression didn’t shift, seeming only more unconvinced with time.

‘Look, okay,’ Ren leaned the guitar forward giving Iskall a clearer view of his fingers, ‘You use your middle finger to pluck the A string, then, before it stops ringing out, you quickly pressed the 2 nd  fret.’

Iskall copied Ren’s movements. They weren’t quite as fluid as Ren’s, but he did manage to creak out the 2 intended notes.

‘See! You got it dude! Okay, so after you’ve hit the second fret, you want to hit the 3 rd  fret with your third finger.’ He did the 3 notes in succession again, slightly slower than before, giving Iskall time to see the arc his fingers made and how they pressed firmly into the wood, keeping the momentum of the sound.

Iskall looked back down at his own hands as they tried to recreate what he’d just seen. He _did_ manage to get 3 notes to ring out, but his didn’t seem to be as even or controlled as Ren’s. He grimaced inwardly, feeling his frustration build again.

‘That’s it! So, this next part is a bit harder. Once you’ve hit the third fret you need to immediately slide up to the 5 th  fret, and then jump back down to the first fret using your 1  st  finger this time.’ Ren demonstrated while talking, speeding up slightly to trying to show the steady rhythm the notes should make.

Iskall raised an eyebrow, for a bit that was much harder it didn’t seem to cause Ren much trouble. He glared at the neck of his guitar before taking a deep breath and trying to centre himself.

He plucked at the A string before hammering his finger on the 2 nd  and 3  rd  fret. The guitar seemed to die in his hands and he tried to run the dull third note up to the 5  th  fret, his finger grating across the rough metal. In a desperate attempt to reignite the sound, he slammed his first finger in the rough direction of the first fret. It hit its target, but his wrist had twisted again and his finger caught on the bottom string leaving a grating dissonance that was much louder than any of the other notes he’d played.

Iskall growled.

‘This is stupid!’

‘Hey, hey, that wasn’t too bad man! That was better than my first go at slides, I told you they’re pretty delicate work.’

‘Ren do I look like I’m cut out for delicate work’ Bit out Iskall, gesturing to his thick frame and scars that decorated his hands. ‘What’s even the point in not using your right hand! That’s what’s there for! To strum!’ and with that he grabbed the neck of the guitar fingers resting across all 6 strings and threw his left hand up and down across them.

Originally, he’d done this to try and underline what he was saying with a horrible noise, to try and let out some of his anger into the guitar. But actually, it didn’t sound half bad. He did it again with more purpose this time, letting the muted sound become more even, quick and more controlled.

He was still annoyed.

‘Why can’t guitar just be this,’ he repeated the tripling rhythm he’d just discovered, ‘this is much better! What a stupid instrument.’

Ren grinned at him amused and unperturbed. ‘Uh, well it can be.’

Iskall paused his ministrations. ‘What?’

‘Yeah man, that’s a whole style of playing, I’m most familiar with its Latin-American form. It’s like an extreme version of modern rhythm guitar, you sorta play chords and play the muted string to accompany another guitarist as almost like a drum part.’

Iskall turned to face Ren head on ‘Would this work with the stuff you play?’

‘Uh yeah could do, I play more traditional Spanish stuff, but it shouldn’t be too hard to adapt’

Iskall turned back to face the sea that stretched out before them. It washed up and down the shore, unassuming and self-assured in his movement. It was smooth and steady, unlike his stuttering fingers and locking joints, which refused to play the passages he envisioned in his head. The waves rolled up the beach with gentle power, mocking Iskall’s imprecision. Ren watched him closely.

‘You alright dude?’

He turned to face Ren again, taking in how his eyes were pinched with quiet concern. ‘So, you can teach more of the strum-y style?’

Ren hesitated briefly, but decided not to push it any further. ‘Yeah, we can do that.’ He let a smile grow on his face. ‘It’s way cooler than all the flowery stuff I play anyway.’

Iskall snorted, grabbing the opportunity to lighten the mood ‘Yeah, people will see us play together and be all “Iskall, Iskall show us how you make the guitar so mega amazing like that”. Then who’ll be the one with the ladies in the line?’

‘Hey man! Don’t forget who taught you all you know. You better thank the Ren-diggity-Dog when you’re famous.’

With another laugh Iskall repositioned the guitar and waited expectantly for Ren to start teaching again.

////////////

So, it turns out, playing music with someone doesn’t really work like that. It was more like a partnership than a competition, he supposed that was called a duet and not a duel.

He flicked his hand with fervour, letting the nail of his thumb catch the upstroke and his fingers splay slightly on the down. Closely watching Ren’s leg bounce to the rhythm he was playing to, he counted steadily in his head, lips twitching as he mouthed the numbers.

Ren’s staccato notes jumped up and over his percussive strumming blending together seamlessly without the sound becoming muddy.

Ett.

Två.

Tre.

Fyra.

He pulled the hand that muted the strings up the fret every now and again, emphasising different beats in Ren’s playing as they repeated the first passage. The section rounded off; his let his left hand slowly drift down the guitar neck, away from his body, allowing the strings more room to sound out as the entered the 3 rd  repeat.

Ren relaxed, letting muscle memory carry him through the 3 rd  round. Iskall was looking intensely at his own hands pressing shapes into the fret board as he started to let chords ring under Ren’s melody. His face was painted with fierce concentration and he switched between chords and rhythmic triples.

Ett. Två. Tre. Fyra.

Out in the distance, Joe stood frozen, knee deep in water, glasses dangling off his head and hands half way closed around a shell fragment that was slowly drifting from his fingers. This was _not_ what he was expecting to hear when he came down to the ocean to collect some trinkets for his vineyard.

From behind the heap of rocks separating this beach from the next drifted the distinctive sound of Spanish guitars. Joe was sure of it, he could hear the nylon strings and the warm tone of the wood. He blinked slowly, pulling himself upright and letting saline water pour down his arms.

It was a duet.

Joe cycled quickly through the list of hermits he knew played instruments. Ren played this style but could not for the life of him remember if anyone else did. His mind whirred as the music sped up, the mystery guitarist beginning to seemingly hit the strings with, presumably, their palm. Tuplets danced between the 2 musicians.

He warily picked his way out of the sea, and crept over towards the mound of boulders blocking his view. He _had_ to know who was playing.

The song changed again, Ren doubling the other guitarist chords up an octave, maintaining the building momentum.

Joe’s feet crunched in the sand. He winced, despite the fact there was no way the sound could be heard from where the 2 were sitting - he felt as if he were trying to approach a bunny without startling it.

The mystery guitarist sounded more confident with Ren playing along in unison - more assured and less stilted. He wondered if they were new to this style? Maybe that's why he didn’t know who they were. Ren’s playing dropped into a more drawn out drone as the other guitarist repeated the established strumming, Joe could almost feel the guitarist's nerves pick up as Ren jumped into a quicker, more rhythmically and melodically intense section.

He started trying to plot a surreptitious path up the unyielding barrier in-front of him

From behind said rocks, Iskall was furiously biting the inside of his mouth trying to keep the beat steady whilst Ren catapulted into a flurry of jumping scales. He tried to put into practise what Ren had said about letting go and trusting his body to keep the pattern. He watched Ren’s fingers sprint faster and faster as he attempted to remember to pull air into his lungs.

The adrenalin was good in an overwhelming sort of way. It almost felt like he was in the final round of a championship, close to victory, full of nerves and excitement.

Oh.

He couldn’t let himself overthink every movement when he was fighting, he had to rely on his reflexes and practise habits while he focused on the more important aspects of the battle. Perhaps that’s what Ren meant, when he said to ‘get out of your head, man, just let go.’

Iskall pulled another deep breath through his nose, this time allowing it to settle properly in his chest. He stopped trying to think about technique and hand position, instead trying to unclench his jaw, and fall into the music. He could trust his partner to cover his back if he got lost, he knew his role, he had practiced this, his hands flew into position without every fibre of his being forcing them to. He felt something shift.

Ett, två, tre, fyra.

The music’s quality changed in an unquantifiable way as Joe finally reached the summit of his climb. He squinted into the fading light, trying to discern the identity of the unknown guitarist.

Well that was definitely Ren’s red shirt, he could tell by the ponytail and sunglasses that swept his hair off his face. Behind him was someone else, much broader than Ren but about the same height. He was a little more hunched over his guitar and the strings of his green hoody occasionally bounced off his frantic movements.

…

Iskall?

That wasn’t who Joe was expecting, but it wasn’t completely unreasonable. Iskall had made Ren’s guitars… so it makes sense he would play. But he’d never heard Iskall talk about it, and Iskall isn’t exactly one for hidden talents.

He looked at the 2 play together, both of them bobbing in time, feeding off of each-others energy. Ren leant back grinning, twisting his shoulders slightly towards Iskall, clearly urging him to carry on. Iskall smirked and increased the speed again, challenging Ren to keep up. Ren met his challenge head on, licking his teeth and flipping between scales with dexterity and precision. Iskall’s strumming got louder and louder, more insistent each time, until they both lurched into a final percussive torrent of sound. The sound seemed to continue without them playing as they Ren switched to using the guitar as basically a drum, Iskall muting the string entirely save for the occasional half voice chord thrown in for texture. The 2 of them separated, playing the percussion over each other, moving to the same internal beat while the polyrhythms overlapped and combined to make a sound greater than the sum of its parts.

Iskall threw out more and more chords and Ren slapped out a final descending scale. They both hit the guitars in unison, pushing out the concluding chord with dramatic flair and a smile.

Ren held his hand suspended in the air as he rocked his guitar trying to squeeze the humming notes a little further, Iskall was looking at Ren, grin plastered on his face and eyes bright with energy. He was shaking slightly.

Joe whooped and clapped, unable to control himself any longer. Iskall immediately dropped into a defensive stance, bow drawn and aimed at Joe who yelped in response, ducking instinctively

‘Joe?’ said Iskall with unhidden astonishment.

‘Wha-‘ Ren opened his eyes, saw Iskall with his bow ready to shoot, and turned sharply toward the rocks. ‘Joe?!’

‘It's me, it's me, don’t shoot, I mean no harm!’ Joe scrambled hurriedly down the rock face, still hunched despite Iskall no longer tracking him with a weapon.

‘Wha- why a-’

‘Joe! Dude, don’t scare us like that!’ Ren half laughed out, jumping to his feet and rushing to meet him before Joe face-planted into the ocean.

Iskall lowered his bow, still half stunned, before he shook himself and stood to follow his companion.

‘Howdy fellas! I was just collecting some oceanic mementos for the vineyard of mine, and I couldn’t help but overhear that enchanting duet of yours,’ Joe landed on the sand with a thud but remained miraculously upright. He dusted his hands on his legs, ‘and I thought to myself “well Joe you can’t just go leavin music unheard now”, so I tried to locate _where_ the said music was coming from. But because I don’t have ears that can swivel, and neither do I have echolocation-al abilities either, I couldn’t just use audio to see the people who made this wonderful music.’ He turned to gesture behind him, ‘So I climbed these rocks!’

Iskall contemplated redrawing his bow, as his brain struggled to process what on earth Joe had just tried to say.

Ren barked out a laugh in surprise

‘Nah man you’re fine, we were just running through some songs to increase Iskall’s repertoire’

Iskall started blankly at the 2 hermits.

‘Oh! Well it sounded wonderful! I didn’t know you played Iskall, are you new to the instrument or just good at keeping secrets?’

‘Uh, well, I only started learning recently but I, uh, guess I played a bit when I was making them?’ Stuttered Iskall as he tried to reboot his brain, hoping it would help clear up what was happening

‘Yeah he’s doing really well! We had a bit of trouble at the start but we’ve found a style a play that suits you more didn’t we.’ Ren turned to Iskall expectantly.

‘Uhh, yes.’ He still wasn’t really following but at least Ren was making sense again.

‘Oh that amazing to hear! Was that song from the Spanish tradition?’

‘Well, I’m not super sure actually, it’s just an old standard I learnt years ago but I’d guess yes? Although, the duet was more latin-american I’d say, just ‘cause of the rhythms and strumming, ya know?’

‘I’ll confess we’ve drifted well outside of my limited area of expertise, I focus on the Celtic folk tradition rather than more scale-ic and rhythm-centric styles...’ Joe paused, then snapped suddenly, pointing at nothing in particular. ‘Tell you who would know! Wels!’ he jabbed his finger forward for emphasis, underlining his words. ‘You know we have a music evening every week, me, Wels and Beef get together and just play music together for an hour or 2. You could come join us, if you want? I’m sure Wels could tell you the name of the song and all.’ He smiled innocently, hands now clasped behind his back.

Ren turned to look at Iskall who looked marginally less confused, slightly more intrigued but much more worried.

‘Sure dude, sounds fun! We’d love to!’ He poked Iskall in the ribs teasingly ‘If you’re not too scared of course.’

‘I’m not scared!’ he huffed indignantly ‘I’m just new to playing, that’s all…’ He trailed off, looking away, refusing to meet the others eyes.

‘Oh that’s no concern! Beef is new to playing as well, it’s nothing serious. In fact, it’s strictly all for fun so there’s no need to be nervous,’ Joe beamed ‘it’s for entertainment purposes only, no pressure needed’

‘I’m not nervous, dude!’

‘course not,’ Ren grinned affectionately before turning back to Joe ‘We’d love to join, name a time and place and we’ll be there man.’

Joe bounced lightly on his toes, pulling a crumbled, slightly damp, piece of paper from his pocket and yanking a pen from behind his ear. He bit the lid of the pen off and started scrawling a note, paper held flat to his knee

‘stho, you jus’ come t’ Wels’ place at sundown ‘n Wednesday’ mumbled Joe around the pen lid, ‘Knock on th’door and tell ‘im I sent ya for the folk evening.’ He straightened his back, handing the piece of paper to Ren with a flourish. ‘I can assure you he’ll be overjoyed to have you.’

Ren held the piece of paper lightly, trying not to damage it any further. Joe's handwriting was simultaneously beautiful and illegible, neat in a way that said he wrote a lot, and unreadable in a way that said his brain was too quick for his hands. But he could just about decipher the message if he squinted a bit, so he called it good enough and folded it into his pocket.

‘Excellent! We’ll see you there then!’

Joe bounced on his toes again, this time turning to face the rocks, before thinking better, and making an about turn in order to go up the beach, around the pile instead of over. He reeled off some goodbye pleasantries, and his voice faded to incomprehensible mutters as he worked his way back to his previous shell collecting duties.

Ren grinned at Iskall, face softening when he saw the barely concealed terror.

‘You’ll be fine man, you’re really good! And besides, it’s just Joe, Wels and Beef, it’s not like they’re going to judge you.’

Iskall looked down playing with his fingers. He clicked them in place and stared at their disjointed movements, tracing the scars and rubbing over the uneven surface of badly healed bone. He said nothing.

Ren bit his tongue, frowning concernedly.

‘You don’t have to go, I just thought it might be fun, learn some more styles and stuff. I’m sorry I said yes without asking properly first. That wasn’t cool of me’ he trailed off, disappointed at himself

Iskall’s head shot up

‘No, no I want to go! I just…’ he blinked slowly, shifting his eyes down again unfocused, rubbing his hands a little harder ‘I don’t want to get in people’s way. You guys are so good and I’m just a noob at this…’ He started tugging on his fingers, feeling them grate where injuries from various fights overlapped. They burned slightly, growing red from the rough treatment. He scratched at the surface a little, words unspoken as he tried to stop himself turning the conversation away to something less vulnerable.

He hated this. He didn’t like talking about himself. He didn’t like talking about how he was feeling, or his flaws or why he thought what he did. It was raw and exposing. He wanted to defend himself, he didn’t want opponents to see any exploitable weak spots. But X had spoken to him about this. He had sat him down and pried it out of him, after he had found Iskall swarmed with mobs, injured and barely able to lift a weapon, yet unwilling to call for help. So Iskall _knew_ that Ren wasn’t an enemy, and that talking about things didn’t make him any less capable or strong. He was working on it, trying to be better at acknowledging where he could learn from others, and working on asking for assistance when he was out of his depth.

It was still Hard.

Ren gently, but firmly, grasped his forearm and lifted his hand away from his wrist. Iskall looked down confused and blinked when he saw bright red marks from where he’d pulled at an old dislocation, trying to hold it together and pull it apart simultaneously.

He tore his gaze away, back up to Ren. He watched Ren’s eyes search his carefully blank face, trying to assess what he was feeling, but still couldn’t bring himself to drop the mask.

‘Hey, it’s okay man, no one will be upset at any mistakes. It’s not a competition, it’s a collaboration. You can’t _lose_ at music, we’ll have your back.’ Ren tilted his head with a half smile, hand still holding his wrist, grounding Iskall back to the beach. Salty spray licked at his face, dusting his eyebrows and eyelashes with a crystalline coat. It filled his nose, and mouth, the sharp flavour drawing him further into the present.

He looked Ren in the eye properly, allowing him to see what he had been searching for, before letting himself mirror Ren’s timid smile. ‘Yeah you’re right. I’ll go.’

Ren broke out into a full smile, pride clear on his face. ‘Of course I’m right! When has the Ren-diggity-dog ever been wrong dude!’ He let go of Iskall's wrist and clapped him on the shoulder.

Iskall grinned wickedly ‘Sure sure, whatever you say Mr “I don’t need a circle generator to build a circle”.’

Ren clutched his heart, miming being shot, smile never leaving his face ‘Too soon man, too soon.’

Iskall laughed and began packing his guitar back into its case, listening to Ren relish in re-telling the story of rebuilding the hanger bay. He’s glad he stuck with playing, even if he wasn’t very good. Maybe making music wasn’t a zero-sum game.

He clicked the latches of the guitar case closed, and watched Ren do the same, before making their way back home in companionable silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tw  
> \- internalised ableism  
> \- minor self-harm


	4. In which Cleo plays with Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay! This ones a little different. We got 2 songs for this one!  
> the first one is the reel around the Sun and its the song Joe is humming  
> I use this version specifically on [ Spotify ](https://open.spotify.com/track/1nd37vT8JNshn5Jrq0KN0M?si=bRxW4U73SlyBBEBgHV2lOg)  
> rom 2:44  
> or from 2:44 on [this youtube version](https://youtu.be/OR4FiK-ar7w?t=164)  
> Its only in the fic for a couple of seconds. but it should help convey the vibe
> 
> The second one is actually a song called Savage Daughter written by k.l.kahan as Wyndreth, (which can be found  here) 
> 
> But i didn't really like any of the versions i found, so i recorded my own  
> Which can be found [here on soundcloud](https://soundcloud.com/user-37414922/i-am-my-mothers-savage-daughter-cover)
> 
> I recommend listening to it first, then reading the fic, because it might be difficult to read at the speed the song progresses, but each to their own!

‘You’d enjoy it!’

‘No.’

‘It would be enriching! Give you inspiration for those spectacular statue scenes you’re always building!’

‘No.’

Joe had a rule, he didn’t want people pressured into playing at the folk nights. He wanted people to come of their own volition, and to have fun without a sense of duty weighing on them. If people wanted to watch, they were under no obligation to play, and he also didn’t want people watching because they felt they ought to.

However, sometimes people really _should_ come to the folk evenings.

…

He was never a fan of deontological ethical frameworks anyway.

‘I just don’t understand how you can deny yourself the part of the human experience so integral that we’ve been doing it arguably before we could speak’

‘I do it like this: No’

‘But whyyy?’ Joe drawled out, flopping against Cleo’s leg as she sketched out a new armour stand scene.

‘Folk music just isn’t my thing, Joe.’ Joe sat up frowning.

‘Cleo, folk music is everyone’s thing. I have never met a person who didn’t like at least _some_ type of folk. ‘

‘I’m not a person I’m a zombie’ Replied Cleo primly, turn her notebook sideways and squinting slightly. Does it need more arms?

‘You can’t deny your own personhood just to win an argument, it sets a bad precedent for any future personhood-centric debates.’ He smiled at her.

‘Besides, you’re a person in every-way that matters to me.’

Cleo grumbled but smiled back all the same.

They sat in silence for a beat, feeling the wind catch under their arms and tousling their hair.

‘Are you su-‘

Cleo grabbed the arm that wasn’t supporting Joe’s weight. ‘Joe,’ she said earnestly ‘If you complete that sentence I will break your fingers.’

‘… metaphorically?’

‘No.’ She replied sweetly, patting his hand.

Joe debated fiercely in his head for a second. On one hand, he really wanted to point out that if she broke his fingers, he wouldn’t be able to play and would therefore become infinitely more annoying; on the other hand, he did prefer his digits in-tact. He chose the latter.

‘Okay, okay, I’ll give it a rest’

‘Smart lad, now come here and help me decide what these signs will say.’ She shook her mess of hair out the way and turned the book so Joe could see what she’d been planning, pointing at various key areas to give him more context to work with.

A few hours passed and they had begun the actual building work. Joe had been tasked with flattening some of the hills and clearing the area of trees. He accepted this monotonous task readily, his mind like mush from poetical weaving, but unwilling to be still without something to do. Cleo was making careful adjustments to a sculpture that composed almost entirely of leather pants- Joe could not even begin to fathom what she was making, but he trusted her expertise.

He couldn’t stop himself from reviewing the lines he’d suggested to Cleo, trying to refine them and hone their precision.

What rhymed with irrevocably? Amicably? Integrity? Slant rhymes are still rhymes he supposed.

He hummed to himself, breaking blocks absent-mindedly.

Irreparably? No, that felt too similar to irrevocably.

The sound of dirt crumbling was relaxing and familiar, it wormed its way to the front of his mind, forcing all other thoughts aside. His neck prickled as he was made aware of the steady pulse it counted out. He smiled to himself, swaying side to side, flipping between time signatures in his head. Where there’s a beat, there’s a song.

Introspectively? Retrospectively? Respectively? He was getting off track.

He let the beat slide into 8/8 time, hearing various songs he knew fly past his consciousness. He started humming along to any that caught his eye, settling on a dance reel he used to play. He nodded his head along to the rest of the song only he could hear.

Gosh he hadn’t played this in a while. It was a song that really needed dancers, he could almost hear their shoes clicking to the beat. His digging became less steady, certain hits becoming emphasised as he started to embody the song a little more. His humming got louder without him noticing, messy and imprecise, but clearly shaping a song he knew well.

Behind him, Cleo had frozen, still as the statues she sculpted. She was reeling, mind thrown back years and years as Joe’s atonal vocalisation transported her away. She sucked in a sharp breath, heart racing, her mind filling in the rest of the instrumentation. Her hands twitched by her side; she felt her muscles _begging_ to shift into the dance she knew well. The shaking of the old wooden floor was almost tangible as adrenalin poured over her. But it felt _good_ , laughter echoed round her mind and memories of her cheeks burning from smiles dislodged themselves from wherever they had lain dormant before.

Dim lights burned in her mind’s eye, steps reverberated around a cramped room. She giggled as the fiddle player whipped her bow out her way, just missing catching her hair. She stamped a foot in front of the other, thighs aching from the turn out. - she revelled in the pain, spinning into position as the song picked up. Her partner sprang into a high kick and she shifted behind them, she mirrored their dance a beat behind in a rippling cascade of movement. Her calves were alight and her feet stung with every step, ankles scarred from misplaces clicks, but she wouldn’t have it any other way. She accelerated, eyes on fire, cheeks burning, heart racing - she jumped higher, catching the floor with precision, striking sounds from it, faster and faster, tighter and tighter. She was alive, she was burning she wa-

‘INTELLIGABLY!’

She flinched violently.

Joe was leaning on his thigh, frantically scribbling in his note book, scratching out something and replacing it with the fervour of someone desperate to not let an idea get away. His humming had stopped altogether and Cleo was left stranded in a brutal silence.

She felt dazed and unsteady as she tried to recover from being wrenched back to reality

Joe was still writing, clearly following a rabbit hole of thoughts, re-writing sections of script with incomprehensible speed. He muttered to himself, sentence fragments falling from his mouth.

‘Fine, I’ll go!’

It was Joe turn to jump as Cleo shattered the silence

‘What?’ he replied instinctively.

‘I’ll go!’ she crossed her arms and leaned her weight into her hip.

‘To the folk night?!’ She rolled her eyes with concealed affection at Joe’s growing glee.

‘Yes, to the folk night, what else have you been repeatedly bugging me about?’

Joe paused a second ‘Now, I’m presuming that that is a rhetorical, but I can list the topics if you’d like’

‘You know, as much as I appreciate the offer, think I’ll pass on that one.’

‘You can never be sure! Always best asking for clarification than assuming your own inter-personal intelligence.’ His face returned to its previous state of unfettered joy

‘So you really mean you want to come? You’re gonna join us at the folk night?’

‘Well I won’t play, but sure. I’ve got nothing going on. She flicked her hair over her shoulder, arms still crossed firmly in front of her, supressing a smile at Joe’s contagious excitement. ‘But just one time, and don’t expect anything from me.’

‘Now I wouldn’t dare dream of it Ms Cleo’ Joe replied, tone innocent in a way that didn’t match the gleam in his eye.

‘Stop looking at me like that, we still haven’t got close to terraforming the area and I’ve got another hour on this statue at least.’ She spun on her heel and Joe laughed silently to himself

‘Alright alright I’ll get back to forming this terra.’ He turned back to the mound of dirt he’d been shaping and dove back into the world of wordsmithing and poetry, restarting the background drum of block breaking.

//////////

If Cleo had a fully functioning circulatory system, she is sure her blood would be thrumming in her ears. Next to her, Stress was clapping in utter delight at the scene in front of her - Cleo suppressed the urge to join in.

‘That was amazin’!’ Stress jumped up from her precarious seat on a capsized log, running up to the musicians who’d just finished a piece, sand flying with every step. ‘Iskall I can’t believe you hid the fact you played from me!’ She hit Iskall playfully on the shoulder.

‘Well, I didn’t exactly hide it, it just didn’t come up in conversation’ he rubbed his arm. ‘Also, I invited you here didn’t I?’ he deflected.

Ren laughed heartily and leaned in ‘Dude, I had begged him to ask you to come hear us,’ he stage-whispered to Stress, ‘you shoulda heard all the excuses he made.’

‘Dude!’

‘It’s true’ chimed in Wels, ‘We only just persuaded him to let people sit in’ He smirked at Iskall whose face was slowly turning redder.

‘Well I love it! It was amazin’ want’ it Cleo?’

‘Hm? Oh yeah it was great. Loved it.’ Cleo was still caught up in the music’s afterglow, already re-living her favourite parts in her head.

‘See! Nuffin to be nervous about you silly-billy,’ Her eyes sparkled with joy and Cleo had to avert her gaze at the familiarity of it.

As she turned, she noticed Joe watching her with careful consideration- she raised an eyebrow. He shrugged mildly in response, grinning at having been caught, but looking away before she could attempt to press further. She groaned inwardly at herself, Joe was far more perceptive than anyone gave him credit for. Far too perceptive if you asked her.

‘So, what’s the song called?’ She broke her self-imposed vow of silence, grabbing everyone’s attention.

‘The one we just played? Well, it’s actually something me and Joe wrote together one afternoon, nothin’ special. Most of it was improv on my part.’ Wels shot a look up at Joe sheepishly, who waved his hand in a ‘don’t worry about it’ motion.

‘You wrote it!? How come I didn’t know yous lot played, let alone wrote songs as well!?’ Stress had an interesting mixture of awe and offense on her face. Joe held his hands up in surrender.

‘Well, I wouldn’t strictly call it a song per say, we just drew up a chord chart and outlined the structure. The melody was all written on the fly’ said Joe, trying to placate her

‘Chords and a structure? Sounds like a song to me’ Beef piped up from his seat on his cajon. ‘Plus, you helped me and Iskall pick out the basic drum parts. That’s harmony, rhythm _and_ structure. Joe, weren’t you just telling us how ‘song’ is a fluid term and that trying to say melody is the defining feature of music is a very euro-centric view?’

Wels’ eyes darted to meet Joe’s as Joe pondered Beef’s statement. He shrugged apologetically ‘I’ll admit they’ve got us in a corner here.’

Ren laughed. ‘I think what Stress means, is that you guys should advertise these evenings more. I bet loads of people would love them.’ He tried to poke Iskall with the end of his guitar - he blocked the attack away with practised precision, ‘I know we do’

‘We didn’t want to impose ourselves on people’s minds and guilt them into coming’

‘Joe, you worry too much, no one’s gonna force themselves to go if they don’t want to,’ Cleo rebutted ‘Plus, I don’t remember you having any reservations about badgering me to come’

Joe smiled, ‘Well, with you I was absolutely sure you’d love it.’ He raised his head challenging her ‘Was I wrong?’

Cleo huffed and looked away. Joe’s smile only got wider

‘Do you play at all Cleo?’ Wels cut in, preventing any further sarcastic quips being exchanged.

‘N-‘

‘Cleo sings!’ Stress interrupted her before Cleo had time to react. She glared at Stress trying to dissuade her from continuing.

‘Oh does she?’ Wels said in quiet surprise

‘Yeah, she used to dance as well, didn’t you Cleo?’ If looks could kill Stress would be dead where she stood.

Stress beamed, unfazed - Cleo faltered slightly

‘I- I haven’t done either in a while’ she admitted hesitantly. Part of her wanted to end the conversation there and then, scrub it from the memories of all who attended; but part of her - the half she vehemently refused to acknowledge - part of her missed performing. She shoved that part down.

Her glare flitted from face to face, trying to intimidate them all into leaving the topic there. It seemed to work on Ren, Beef and Iskall, all of whom looked away immediately. However, then she caught Joe’s expression.

Well shit.

‘For a while huh?’ Joe tilted his head knowingly ‘Don’t you miss it? I know I would if I stopped playin for any extended period of time.’

Too damn perceptive

‘I-,’ She cut herself off, unwilling to lie to their faces, but not wanting to admit anything out-loud.

Beef looked up again at the pause, eyes narrowed ever so slightly, gentle curiosity on his face. ‘You miss it?’ His gaze shifted to the rest of the musicians, who were slowly cottoning on to Cleo’s internal struggle. ‘I mean, you can play with us? That’s what we’re here for right?’

‘I’m not any good I’m years out of practice’ She protested, making a show of gesturing to her undead body.

‘Dude that doesn’t matter, me and Beef literally only started learning a few months ago’

‘B-,’

‘We won’t judge, we’d much rather hear you “years out of practise” than have you sit in silence suffering.’ Ren chimed in, hopeful smile playing on his lips

Cleo couldn’t think of any response to that. She knew it was true. The part that missed it was growing stronger by the second, bolstered by the encouragement and the promise of companionship.

She gave another half-hearted protest.

‘You guys won’t know any of the songs I know.’ At this, Joe laughed out loud,

‘Cleo, Wels knows essentially every song under the sun, and any he doesn’t he can learn on the fly. He’s skilled like that’

Wels ducked his head down, embarrassed, but didn’t deny it.

Cleo bit her lip. She wanted to, but honestly? It still felt like a raw wound. But then, maybe it would do her some good though - reclaim music part of her current situation, make it something ZombieCleo did too. She wasn’t stupid, she knew that she needed to address her unwillingness to participate in activities she associated with being alive – but it just, it still felt too soon.

Stress bent down and grabbed her forearms ducking to meet her downturned gaze before lifting it up again. ‘Please Cleo? I miss hearing your voice.’

That’s what did it. Her resolve crumbled all together. She sighed

‘Okay, okay fine, but just this once.’

‘Ayyy!’ Iskall cheered, Beef and Ren joining in. Wels grinned to himself and started adjusting the tuning pegs on his guitar. Joe shot Stress an appreciative look before turning to face Cleo

‘What song were you thinking of?’ asked Joe with careful neutrality

‘Oh, uhm’ Cleo hesitated before twisting towards Wels slightly ‘Do you happen to know the song savage daughter?’ Wels clicked his tongue for a beat, flicking through his extensive repertoire.

‘I… don’t think I do actually. Do you know the starting note?’

Cleo hummed a very quiet hum, which Wels immediately copied on the guitar.

‘Okay sounds like that’s a C which make my life easy.’ He grinned at her, letting her breathe a second, before nodding toward the middle of the semi-circle they’d made.

Cleo took a tentative step forwards, shuffling to the centre. She forced herself to meet everyone’s eyes, trying to corral her normal assertive confidence into not leaving her now. She looked at them all, taking them in.

Ren was quietly chatting to Stress, occasionally glancing up at Cleo, but clearly trying to reduce the amount of people staring at her. Stress was animatedly responding, asking questions and prompting him to explain his idea’s further. She didn’t seem at all conflicted about who she was paying attention to, deliberately not focusing on Cleo until Cleo was ready to perform. Iskall was absent-mindedly playing with the sand on the ground whilst smiling at Ren and Stress, not really contributing but listening all the same; Cleo wondered if he was picking up on her nerves, or if he was just in a quiet mood today. A small, appreciative smile made its way to her face when she caught Ren’s eye. He nodded subtly before turning back to Stress, maintaining their previous topic of discussion.

Joe was uncharacteristically quiet, watching Wels fiddle with his guitar. He was seemingly in deep thought, face pensive and still. Cleo could try to make an educated guess as to what he was thinking about, but honestly, you never really could be sure with Joe.

Next to him, Beef was looking directly at Cleo, calmly waiting for her to start but without judgement of her hesitance. He beamed unabashedly when she looked at him, his normal air of kindness and openness shining through 10-fold. She couldn’t help herself from smiling back, instantly calmer as she remembered who she was there with. She could trust these people, she told herself, they were her friends.

She finally turned to Wels, who had just finished re-tuning his guitar. There was a small device that stretched across the strings at little way down the neck of the guitar, which he was adjusting to be perfectly parallel with the frets. He looked up when he felt her gaze on him.

‘So, if you sing a verse or 2 before I join in I can try to work out the key and what chords will work. I’m a little rusty when it comes to using perfect pitch to play along with someone, but hopefully its not too complicated of a song.’ Cleo nodded silently and Wels’ expression softened. ‘You’ve got this. If you hate it we’ll just stop, no questions asked.’ Cleo nodded again before turn to face forward again.

A hush fell over the hermits as Cleo commanded everyone’s attention. The waves lulled in the background, washing up and down in time with her breaths.

She pulled one more breath deep into her lungs, letting her diaphragm fill out properly, steadfast and strong. She relaxed her knees and stood tall, bravery flattening her shoulders to her back and she lifted her head high.

My mother’s child is a savage,

She looks for her omens in the colours of stones.

Her voices carried up across the waves, leaning lightly into the high note, letting them fly up through the top of her head.

In the faces of cats, in the fall of feathers

She danced on top of the lyrics, bending the song where it wanted to go, sliding off the notes and relishing the contrast.

In the dancing of fire and the curve of old bones

She let the notes catch, elongating them a little too long as she felt herself relax more, adding embellishments where she saw fit.

Everyone sat enraptured, faces still and motionless. The wind whipped Cleo’s hair in a halo, the red contrasting the blue green on the sea, waves crashed as if they were made to be behind her.

Beef was the first to recover, eyes sparkling and fingers itching. He threw caution to the wind, hitting his drum as she took her first deep breath of the song. The beat seemed to let Cleo sit firmer, solidifying her place in the song. She bit into the lyrics, pushing the constants a little further, grating them and twisting them.

I am my mothers savage daughter

The one who runs bare foot cursing sharp stones

I am my mothers savage daughter

I will not cut my hair, I will not lower my voice.

She lets the words sit lower in the chest, as if declaring them rather than challenging anyone. This was for her, it was her story to claim.

Wels quietly offered muted chords, adding a steady beat and Beef changed his drumming to emphasis Cleo’s words and to mimic a heart.

Cleo’s voice changed in texture for the second verse, she became less contained and rawer, telling a story with the effort clear in her tone. She took the bite out a little, instead choosing to glance off notes rather than hitting them as if telling them through a whisper rather than the real volume she was singing.

Wels was watching closely, trying to predict where the song would go next, his hands finding the chords easily but choosing to settle in the background rather than push the song any further for now. He looked out at the audience, eyes drawn to Joe, who looked as if he might burst with pride. Stress was sitting at the front absolutely beaming, looking as if she could barely stop herself joining in.

Wels took a chance.

He echoed her voice in unison, quieter but just as firm. Singing wasn’t something he was completely comfortable with, but in this context it felt more like another way to add texture and grow the music, rather than trying to battle Cleo with his own song.

Cleo pushed further, unrelenting - only bolstered by Wels joining in. She took control of the song knowing Wels and Beef would follow. Wels mimicked the energy, letting the chords ring-out more and become more pronounced. This time the chorus felt different, as if she was trying to persuade people to join her, to leave formality and embrace the untamed.

The next verse felt sharper, as if Cleo had relinquished the grasp on her voice altogether, letting the it fade and catch with reckless abandon.

Now my mothers child curse too loud too often

And my mothers child laughs too hard too long

And **howls** at the moon and _sleeps_ in ditches

She forced the word howl out, focusing on Ren, eyes alight and unstoppable. She practically hissed on the word sleeps grinning and meeting Stress eyes, challenging her to join in.

And clumsily raises her voice in this song

Stress grinned and stood up without hesitation. Wels lifted the chords, letting the metal of his strings sound audibly with each hit. Stress joined in unison with Cleo, voiced blending imperceptibly. Wels dipped a little lower, adding a simple harmony as he changed the chords a little, increasing the tension and building the song up towards its pinnacle. He raised the harmony, drifting it a little higher, prompting a third voice to join in.

Stress took the opportunity easily, resting the harmony on top of Cleo’s melody, dancing above the notes with confident ease. Cleo changed the rhythm, the words become defiant as if daring someone to say otherwise. She increased the energy, feeling everything resonate within her, voice vibrating below her sternum and at the roof of her mouth. Stress forced the harmony higher, Wels following filling in the middle voice adding biting dissonance that made Cleo burn.

I will not cut my hair, I will not lower my voice

They finished an octave apart, Beef hitting the cajon with a resounding thud, punctuating the final note as Wels’ final chord hung in the air.

The waves crashed. Cleo’s hair caught in the fading sun, glowing with fiery red. She burned.

The wind curled around her, whipping up the fabric of her clothes, leaves from trees danced pirouettes, overtaking each other in a flurry of spins.

Cleo Burned. She didn’t feel alive, she felt on fire. She felt cold and hot at the same time, barely generating her own warmth up but still alight with the sparks from the song. Her voice felt used but steady. She breathed in the saline air, letting it coat her tongue in sharp contrast to the dryness of her throat.

Iskall was the first to move, starting a thunderous round of applause, breaking Ren from his reverie who joined in with he own cacophony of claps. The rest of the group followed, leaving Cleo stood in the midst of display, ducking her head down but smiling all the same. Stress ran up and jumped into a hug, barely giving Cleo time to brace herself as she giggling unashamedly.

‘I knew you could do it! That was amazin’!’ Stress released her iron grip on Cleo (she was deceptively strong much to Iskall’s chagrin) and bounced up and down, uncontained excitement bubbling over infectiously. Beef was laughing at their antics, rising from his drum to give a dramatic standing ovation. Cleo gave him a playful glare, feigning annoyance.

Joe was still standing where he had been before, watching Cleo mess around without worry. He was so proud he could die. He remembered finding her, cold and unmoving in a dark cave, after she’d wandered off the night before escaping, from where Ren had been entertaining guests with guitar and singing. She confessed to him then, in her fading lucidity, that before she’d turned, before she’d died, she had been a dancer. She’d been dancing since before she knew what it meant. She’d danced growing up, she’d sang with the bands, she’d danced with her friends and sang with her partners. She’d dance when she lived and she was dancing when she died. And she couldn’t do it since.

He doesn’t really know if she remembered telling him this. She never mentioned it after. But he knew that she missed feeling. He could tell when she sometimes drifted off to him practising, when she hummed the melodies under her breath. He knew she wanted it back, to join in with the music again.

So he was so proud. She’d broken that first barrier with the fearless determination he'd known she had.

Cleo caught his eye and walked with purpose over to him. She stopped in front of him

‘Cleo… I-,’ She punched him in the arm

‘Don’t you go getting all soppy on me Joe Hills’ she said with a grin, eye shining ever so slightly more than they might usually. If they were watering, no one mentioned it.

‘Wouldn’t dream of it Ms Cleo,’ he rubbed his arm where’d she’d hit, mirroring her grin affectionately ‘Tis but the salty air in my eyes’

They looked at each other for a second, dual grins plastered on their face. Cleo stuck her tongue out.

Joe laughed

Cleo burned. She felt at home among her friends, she felt like she’d finally given herself permission to connect with who she used to be. She felt warm and happy, friends tended her fire and fed it with tiny kindnesses.

Cleo burned, and she didn’t miss the cold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warning:  
> Death mention  
> implied trauma  
> someone is found ill in a cave
> 
> this chapter is likely to change a bit once my lovely friend has had a chance to proof read whole thing and found my countless errors and suggested better wording  
> Also, find me on tumblr at thatreallyminecraftsmygender

**Author's Note:**

> forgive me any inaccuracies and corrections are welcomed
> 
> I don't know how regularly I'll be updating but I have more ideas in the works, hence the additional character tags, which will be updated as I write.  
> This'll be more like a series of highly related ficlets more than one over arching story but i wanted to compile them all neatly here
> 
> Come talk to me about the folk au on my tumblr - thatreallyminecraftsmygender


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